


The Widow and the Carpenter

by GettingOverGreta



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Porn With Plot, Smallfolk AU I guess, no royalty here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27812998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingOverGreta/pseuds/GettingOverGreta
Summary: Jorah's wife Lynesse accuses him of impotence in their divorce proceedings. Per the requirements of the law, he must submit to an inspection to confirm her claim. Daenerys Targaryen, a local widow, is assigned to the task.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 51





	The Widow and the Carpenter

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fic with references before...but for context, here's the article that inspired the fic. It's a good read!
> 
> https://narratively.com/the-distinguished-medieval-penis-investigators/

Lynesse’s decision to demand an end to their marriage had shocked him, mostly because he had not demanded the same when she admitted to a dalliance with another man. However, when she made her request to the septon, she cited impotence, of all things, as the reason for her complaint. Jorah had been so caught up in the insult of it that he didn’t even think of what might occur next. The septon informed him that he would have to submit to an inspection to prove her claims, and their little seaside village had few options for anyone to perform the task. Jorah was already prepared for this experience to be one of the most humiliating of his life, but the septon made a fateful choice that somehow pushed it past the point of tolerance.

The local maester had looked him over and detected no issue, but to please the septon a woman had to have her say. A maid would be unsuitable, and the village had no brothel. Thus the septon had landed on Daenerys Targaryen, a neighbor and a widow with three small boys. Lynesse had the audacity not to be best pleased with this choice – she thought that he paid too much attention to Daenerys even when her husband was alive, a strapping foreign man who gifted Jorah a horse when he unexpectedly rescued Daenerys from a bandit on her way back from the market. He had worried about her when Drogo died of a sudden illness, and occasionally helped her in ways that were completely appropriate in his mind – with three children in the house she often needed things repaired, and the boys were always curious about his carpentry so it was a pleasure to work there. Yet Lynesse was always suspicious, mayhap due to her own guilty conscience.

Jorah wasn't blind, of course. Daenerys was young and beautiful, and that was what truly irked Lynesse. His wife had been considered the loveliest woman in the village before Daenerys and her late husband bought the house and fields at the edge of the village to breed and raise horses. Her strength in carrying on had been admirable, and she emerged from her mourning with determination to maintain the farm with the help of a few servants who hailed from the same land as her husband, dismissing the few suitors who attempted to woo her and preferring the company of her children and a few friends. 

Still, there was no changing Lynesse's mind, and thus no way to avoid this torment. Jorah presented to Daenerys’s front room, both her welcome and the fireplace roaringly warm. She smiled as she gestured for him to sit at her table, laden with wine and fruit and cheese. Despite the situation she plainly wished to keep up a sense of hospitality. Or perhaps it was part of the process, he'd been trying very hard to avoid thinking about what to expect this evening.

“Hardly the best of circumstances for us to meet, good ser. But I think we are friends enough to muddle through it.” She poured a glass of wine for each of them and encouraged him to eat. “Surely you’ll need your strength,” she joked, and Jorah tried not to stare as she bit into a plump strawberry, humming with contentment.

Something was strange in the house, and Jorah was so distracted by his dilemma that he only just noticed. “It’s suspiciously quiet in here,” he finally said, and he thought Daenerys blushed a little.

“I sent the boys to visit with Irri and Rakharo. I thought we might avoid any unusual questions that way - and they're expecting their own little one, they could use the practice. And Doreah is…visiting a beau, so we don’t have an entirely different sort of disruption.” Jorah laughed, for her handmaid had already made a minor scandal or two and wasn’t above a bit of gossip. Relieved that they were unlikely to be interrupted, Jorah tried to relax. It was hard not to enjoy Daenerys’s company, luminously lovely as she was, and she was always charming.

Of course, their pleasant visit had to come to an end.

“Well, let us get to work, ser.” Daenerys gestured for him to stand closer to the fire, as she loosened the ties of her wool gown and revealed an unusual chemise that laced up the front. Jorah remembered Lynesse saying disdainfully that Daenerys had fed her own children rather than hire a wet nurse, a surprising choice for a woman with her resources. This must have been a remnant of those days.

Daenerys cleared her throat and nodded towards - right, he was supposed to be demonstrating that he wasn’t so _impaired_ that his wife needed to divorce him. With fumbling hands he pulled his tunic over his head, and pulled himself free of his breeches, hoping she wouldn’t notice that he’d grown half-hard just watching her slip out of her gown. Daenerys responded in kind by opening her chemise widely enough to reveal her breasts, a vision of the Mother herself, if not perhaps the way she appeared in the sept. Jorah could just imagine how the weight of her breasts would feel in his hands, how the rosy skin would pucker under his tongue. Which he supposed was the idea, as his blood heated he could feel his cock thickening, the first tingle of pleasure teasing through his groin. Daenerys took a couple of steps forward, keeping her luminous eyes fixed to his, until she was close enough to examine him. Gods, his heart was racing like he was going into battle.

Then, she went down on her knees, peering closely at him, looking for anything unusual, though Jorah had no idea what that might be. When he thought his imagination might make him embarrass himself, he studied the painted beams of the ceiling instead, hoping she didn’t notice his shudder when he felt the softest whisper of her breath on his exposed, sensitive skin. When she finally moved to rise again he offered his hand without thinking, finding her grace remarkable as she studiously avoided any unintentional contact. 

“I do not see a problem. He seems quite - healthy,” Daenerys said softly, looking up shyly through her lashes. Her breasts rose and fell with a few breaths, and Jorah suddenly realized he was staring, and moved to close his breeches. 

“Wait,” Daenerys said, staying his hand. “Perhaps – perhaps he doesn’t like to be touched. That would certainly make him shy for your wife.”

Not bloody likely, Jorah thought. The biggest insult of Lynesse’s claim was the idea that she would have even _known_ if he was impotent, since they hadn't touched each other in months. Then he gasped, as Daenerys traced her fingers over his shaft, then gripped him in her hand and gently circled the head with her thumb. When beads of fluid appeared, she swiped them over his skin, her touch sending waves of pleasure through his neglected flesh. Rather than flagging, Jorah felt like his erection only grew harder against her palm and fingers.

She was standing so close now, that he could have dipped his head to her plush, rosy lips, and Gods, what a temptation. Every so often she chewed slightly at the bottom one, and he wanted his teeth take the place of hers.

“That seems to be fine as well,” she said reassuringly, taking her delicate hand back. “Do you have any idea what might be wrong?”

“I suppose…” Jorah cleared his dry throat and Daenerys’s eyebrows lifted. She stepped away, giving him a moment to breathe, and poured him another glass of wine. He took a rather large gulp and considered whether he wanted to say anything else. Daenerys smiled encouragingly, and he suddenly felt even warmer than he did when he entered the toasty room.

“Distracted,” he finally said, placing the glass on a small table. “It’s quite easy to concentrate on your hand when nothing else is happening.”

“Oh,” Daenerys said, a little breathlessly to his ears, but he was probably hearing things. She tilted her head thoughtfully. “And what might distract you? With your wife?”

Jorah swallowed. “I would be – touching her, most likely.” Daenerys nodded solemnly. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she reached for his hand and lifted it to her soft breast, her eyes briefly fluttering closed. Had anyone touched her since her husband died? Jorah focused, feeling her nipple harden in the web of his fingers while she clutched his hand. Her breathing shifted, turning shallow and quicker, when she looked at him again, he thought her gaze seemed darker.

“And would you kiss her?” Daenerys whispered hotly.

“Aye,” Jorah nodded, and she pressed her palms against his cheeks to bring his mouth down to hers. He restrained himself for a moment before her tongue coaxed his own past her lips, but in short order he forgot that anything but Daenerys even existed. He lost himself entirely in the sweet taste of her, the scent of her perfumed skin rising in the heat by the fire, and the silk of her hair in his hands. Without realizing it, he backed her against the table, only noticing as his cock nestled in the skirt of her shift, pressing against her soft belly. When she pressed a warm kiss to an old scar below his collarbone, he took that as permission to lift her onto the surface. He laid a trail of kisses down her silken throat, careful to leave no marks that might raise questions. Daenerys moaned softly as he nuzzled at the tender skin of her breast, molding the other with his hand, and wrapped her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck. Despite paying little attention to his rampant state, there seemed to be no sign of him losing his cockstand, which Daenerys confirmed with some sensuously slow caresses.

“Now then ser, to be certain. We must determine if he perhaps dislikes being wet.” She drew up her skirt, revealing creamy thighs and a fleece of silver curls. “Or if perhaps, tight spaces alarm him?” 

Jorah needed no further invitation. Part of him wanted to fall to his knees and worship her with his mouth, but he didn’t think he could wait any longer. He practically surged forward between her legs in eagerness, gripping her hips and bathing his cock in the abundant wetness that coated her sex, before her sure hand guided him inside her. Looking down, he watched as his member glided easily within her, glancing up just to see Daenerys tipping her head back, her perfect lips parting in a sigh.

“Trust me, my lady?” Jorah asked, and Daenerys nodded, her half-lidded eyes heavy with desire. He lifted her legs to hook her knees over his elbows, forcing her to lean back on her hands for balance, and drove deeper inside her, surprised at the heat of her flesh. That didn’t seem like the sort of thing a man forgot, and yet with her it felt entirely new. Daenerys cried out softly as he thrust forward, trying slower and faster, softer and harder, to find the rhythm she liked.

“Gods, yes, like _that_ ,” she pleaded, before her soft hand cupped the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. Her preference was more vigorous than Jorah expected, but he was determined to hold back the urge to think only of his own pleasure. Sweat beaded on his forehead and back as he sank his cock into lush heat over and over, gasping for breath between the moments where their mouths met, while his fingers dug into her flesh to hold her in place. Every movement of his hips seemed to only make Daenerys open to him more, her swollen sex drenching his cock. She tapped his shoulder so she could adjust their angle, freeing his arms while her thighs, strong from riding, pressed against his sides as she dug in her heels like he was a prized stallion. Daenerys slipped her hand down to stroke the little pearl between her thighs that he had wanted to devour, until her eyes widened and she shuddered, and he finally felt her sex clenching around him. The very sight and sound of her cresting in pleasure overwhelmed him, and Jorah felt the rush of his own peak rising with surprising intensity. Remembering where he was and who he was with, he pulled himself out, letting his release spill onto the floor beneath her.

Reality came crashing back as the haze of wanting her lifted and he stared at Daenerys, panting and aglow, even more of a goddess with her flushed skin and reddened lips. He’d come here in hopes of preventing his divorce and now he had…

“It seems the polite thing to do would be to clean up,” she said with an air of mock sternness, and Jorah managed a shaky nod. The Mother indeed. He tucked himself away and found a rag to clean up, while Daenerys closed her chemise and tied the wrap of her dress again. Jorah pulled on his tunic, and turned to face the woman who held his fate in her hands.

“Now then. You must get home, and I need to fetch the boys from Irri.” Daenerys said with a nod, smoothing her skirts. “I will be sure to inform the septon of my findings tomorrow. Well, most of them,” she added, her eyes twinkling. She took his hand and squeezed it. "You mustn't fret, ser. All will be well, I promise."

Jorah and Lynesse presented to the septon a few days later, who informed them that per the widow Targaryen’s word, Lynesse would be granted her divorce on account of her husband’s impotence. Jorah’s eyes widened at the man’s judgment but restrained himself from speaking, lest Daenerys should suffer any punishment for lying to the man. Lynesse was gone within days of the septon signing the parchment, and Jorah spent several long nights feeling sorry for himself before he finally went to Daenerys and asked why she had lied.

“Why do you think?” Daenerys flashed him a devilish smile and stepped closer, toying with the laces of his shirt. “I am very fond of you, Jorah, and she was never a good wife, or a kind wife, at least not while I’ve known you. You deserve better, sweet ser, than a woman who seeks her pleasure elsewhere and wastes your…considerable talents.” She pressed her hand over his heart, which leapt treacherously in response. “Had you shown no regard for me, of course, I would have told the truth. But I do not think your heart truly lies with her anymore.” 

Jorah felt himself blush, suddenly quite interested in the scuffs on his boots. “If my talents were considerable, perhaps she wouldn’t have strayed.”

“In fairness I suppose I only experienced one or two, but I’m sure there are more to be discovered.” She grinned brightly. “And you can tolerate my children, which I must consider a talent in itself.”

Jorah chuckled at that. “And how do you propose to explain why you are willing to take on a man who cannot satisfy his own wife?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Daenerys said, reaching up to stroke his cheek, dragging her fingers down through his beard. “That you simply couldn’t find any excitement with Lynesse after her appalling behavior – which you were of course, too honorable to reveal to anyone. And once you were free of her, the problem simply solved itself.” A crash sounded inside the house, and the seductress disappeared as Daenerys sighed. “Or we can say I didn’t want a man who could get another babe on me because I am at my fucking wit’s end.”

Jorah let her words fall into place, and after a silence that he hoped wasn’t too long, lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it. “Then I hope you’ll let me call on you some evening.”

“Why, you must! How else will we get to know each other better?” Daenerys playfully quirked an eyebrow. “But I was hoping that since you’re here, you could have a look at something in the barn? The hayloft in particular needs some improvements. Some attention. From a very skillful carpenter.” She bit her lip, and Jorah knew from the tightening in his breeches that he was about to make a liar out of her again.

“I serve at your pleasure, my lady,” Jorah replied. Daenerys beamed, and took his hand to lead him to a very enjoyable afternoon indeed.


End file.
